


To sing a song of when I loved

by ihearthings_ii



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-06 22:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihearthings_ii/pseuds/ihearthings_ii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/ontd_ai/profile?mode=full"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/ontd_ai/"><b>ontd_ai</b></a> kink meme (round the Third.)</p><p>The prompt was:</p><p># 61: Brad/Adam; sex that ensued the night of this picture: <a href="http://i39.tinypic.com/29wn2hg.jpg">http://i39.tinypic.com/29wn2hg.jpg</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	To sing a song of when I loved

”C’mon, c’mon,” Brad says, draped hot and sweaty against Adam’s back. Adam is trying to unlock the door to his apartment, but it’s really fucking hard to think when Brad’s reaching around him with both arms, squeezing his cock and nipples. Adam’s forehead rests against the door and his eyes are closed, and he can feel the synthetic scratch of Brad’s wig against his shoulder blades.

“I need your cock in me like, ten minutes ago,” Brad bitches, and pokes his head under Adam’s arm, taking the key from unsteady hands and unlocking the door. They tumble into Adam’s shitty studio, make-up and discarded costume pieces littering every surface, and Brad does a half-spin on his heels before sitting down hard on the floor.

“Thank fuck these things have zippers,” he says, unzipping the knee-length boots and tearing the glittery wig off. Adam’s platform boots feel like led on his feet and he unzips them, kicks them off. They thump heavily on the floor, and Adam is thankful that at least he and his neighbors on all sides are friendly and pretty good about weird noise at all hours.

Brad has his glittery hot pants hanging from one of his feet, his leg stretched out and up, and he's looking at Adam with that fucking obscene smirk. Brad kicks his foot up higher, and the hot pants go flying, landing next to the fridge. He stands unsteadily, and starts peeling the mesh top off. One hand on a hip, he stalks over to where Adam is standing, entranced. He lazily swings the top over his head a few times before catching Adam around the neck with it, pulling him down. Adam goes willingly and they share a sloppy kiss, more tongue than anything else.

“Okay mister," Brad says, "off with the dress." Adam can’t get the glittery, fluttery thing off fast enough but it catches on his wig, and he falls on the bed, sputtering. He feels ridiculous and pretty unsexy, but Brad sits down astride his hips and helps him get both the wig and dress off, before gently taking out the hoop earrings and rubbing a little at Adam's numb earlobes. He's laughing the entire time, big and bright and Adam just lies there and stares and stares, his heart so big in his chest he thinks it should hurt.

Brad presses a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth, "Are you with me?" he asks, and grinds down on Adam's cock, and yeah, _oh_ yeah, Adam is with him.

Brad slides down, and stands next to the bed. He looks contemplative before leaning down, kissing Adam tenderly. Adam reaches for him because he wants to and because he can, now; cupping his face, fingers stroking along his jaw line, under his chin, down the long line of his vulnerable throat, and he gasps into Brad's mouth when Brad reaches down and fondles Adam through the black booty shorts.

"These need to go as well," Brad says against his mouth and Adam nods but doesn't move. Brad arches an eyebrow and snaps the elastic of the shorts. Adam grunts and peels them off, flinging them into the room.

"Good boy," Brad smirks, running a finger down the length of Adam's cock, which is straining obscenely against his fishnets, and Adam can't stop the surprised moan that escapes him or the jerk of his hips.

"Now watch,” Brad says, like Adam could keep his eyes off him, and Brad does a little wiggle while taking off his own fishnets. It’s wobbly, and he slips a little on the floor, and Adam is riveted.

Brad sweeps everything but Adam off the bed, and lies down next to him. “Okay,” he finally says, “commence fucking.”

Adam laughs and rolls over, pushing a knee between Brad's thighs. Brad smiles and parts his smooth legs easily, and Adam runs his hands down the length of them.

They’d showered together earlier, too cramped in the stall that barely fits Adam alone; they'd helped shave each other, and then they’d fucked, wet and slippery, smooth legs slipping against each other.

Brad slides his legs around Adam's waist, heels digging into his ass, pressing them closer together, and Adam closes his eyes tightly, panting against Brad's collarbone. He fumbles blindly in the nightstand, licking at Brad's mouth, grinding down against him, trying to be everywhere at once.

Lube and condoms achieved, he runs his hands from the swell of Brad's ass down his thighs and presses his thumbs into the back of his knees, bending and lifting them over his shoulders.

He slicks his fingers liberally, swipes his thumb down over Brad's hole, the tip just catching on the rim and Brad's whole body jerks.

"Shithead," he gasps, "fuck you, just do it," and Adam retaliates, looking Brad deep in the eyes and plunging two fingers in deep. Brad keens, startled, his heels pressed to Adam's back.

“Fuck,” Brad says, “fucking love your hands, fuckfuckfuck,” and he grips Adam's ass roughly, pulling him in, hands slipping to his thighs. Adam is fucking his fingers in and out of Brad, who's arching off the bed to meet the thrusts, and Adam can't remember the last time he wanted someone this much.

"Fuck, like, your thighs are delicious,” he pants, and Adam has to look away. Brad is so, so beautiful and there isn’t an ounce of fat on him, he could have any guy he wanted, and he wants _Adam_.

And Brad isn’t just beautiful; he makes Adam feel beautiful too, not like Adam’s ex, Carl, who always said things like, “Are you sure you want to eat that, babe?” or, “maybe you should get that without the whipped cream,” and always made Adam feel fat and clumsy and like Carl was ashamed to be seen with him.

Brad makes Adam feel beautiful and invincible, and like it doesn't matter that he's 26 and just a lowly chorus boy. Brad has _faith_; faith that everything is going to work out for the best, faith in the future and the universe and in _Adam_, and Adam has never had someone like Brad in his life, before.

Adam has faith that, with Brad by his side, everything *will* work out. Brad makes Adam beautiful, and his life so bright, and Adam has never loved anybody like this.

"Shit, c'mon, fuck me," Brad pants, rubbing up hard against Adam, head tipped back, and Adam licks at the long smooth line of his delicate neck, nipping at the Adam's apple and biting down hard where it curves into Brad's beautiful shoulders.

"Baby I'm a sure thing," Brad says, "the foreplay is nice, but not necessary, can't we---" but Adam kisses the rest of the sentence away, and Brad is arching up into him, and it feels so good Adam can barely think.

"Okay, fuck this,” Brad says, pushing Adam back. Adam goes, confused, sitting on his knees between Brad's thighs. Brad doesn't waste a moment; he reaches for Adam's soiled fishnets and rips a hole in them just big enough for Adam’s cock to jut out obscenely. Brad looks immensely pleased with himself, and Adam kisses him back down on his back, shoving his fingers back inside.

"I'm good, I'm good, all systems go," Brad is gasping against his mouth, and Adam says, "Are you sure," but Brad just rolls his eyes, so, okay, he's sure.

Adam fumbles with the condom, fingers lube-slick and messy and Brad says, "Forget it, just fuck me," and throws the condom away and Adam's heart stops in his chest.

Adam's clean; he's always been clean (except for a short, but fairly painful bout of Chlamydia two years ago) and he's. Okay, he stopped dating anybody else but Brad --- an embarrassingly long while ago, but he hasn't exactly told Brad yet, because he thinks Brad's been dating other people, and he doesn't want to look like a loser, but.

"Brad," he says, "_Brad_," because he has no clue what else to say.

"Been wanting to do this for a while," Brad says, grinding up into Adam's cock, and Adam's vision sort of crumbles a little at the edges.

"Okay," he says, choking a little on the word, "okay, Brad, fuck, I---" and then he kisses Brad and presses his cock into him at the same time, and Brad hisses into his mouth.

He's fucked guys without condoms before, he has. He's done it because he was stupid, and he's done it because he thought he was in a committed relationship, and it has always felt amazing, but it never felt like this.

He pulls back a little, but Brad won't let him, and he slowly pushes in the rest of the way, and Brad feels so good inside, so hot and slick and tight, and there's nothing between them and it feels so overwhelming and Adam loves him so much, and he feels the hot prick of tears, but closes his eyes tightly against it, presses his forehead hard against Brad's and fucks into him relentlessly.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," Brad chants and Adam has always loved how vocal he is, and how Brad doesn’t give a fuck where they are or who could hear, and Adam fucks him and fuck him and fucks him.

He feels Brad's hands on his face and opens his eyes, Brad is looking at him, those big, brown eyes and smeared make-up and Adam’s heart feels too big for his chest, and he leans down and licks at Brad's mouth and they kiss and fuck and it's rough and too fast but maybe it's okay.

Adam reaches down to jerk Brad's cock, hard twists of his wrist and Brad claws at his back, throws his head back, shouts and cusses, and Adam can feel the squeeze around his cock.

"Harder, harder," Brad gasps, and Adam thrusts into him, hard and nasty and Brad loses it completely, crying out and coming hotly between them, nails scraping sharply down Adam's back, and Adam only lasts about ten seconds more before his hips stutter, and he comes inside Brad.

*

He's slumped over Brad who's holding on to him tightly, and they're kissing sweetly, like they haven't just fucked bareback for the first time. Or maybe they're kissing just like that.

Brad pulls back and nips playfully at his nose, and Adam pulls back a little too, carefully pulling out, but Brad still grunts a little. There's a small trickle of come running from Brad's ass, and Adam doesn't even think about it before leaning down and lapping it up, flattening his tongue and running it soothingly over the tender skin.

"_Motherfucker_," Brad yelps, and his thighs tremble, but he just cups his hand gently to the back of Adam's head.

Adam presses a final, tender kiss to Brad's ass, and then one to his temple, before rolling over, swinging his legs off the bed.

The floor is cold and his feet slip a little with sweat, his thighs shake a little and he feels kind of light-headed, but thankfully the bathroom isn't that far away.

*

Adam glances at the mirror as he wrings out a washcloth. His hair is sweaty and messy, and his make-up is smeared and smudged. He looks happy, and he smiles at himself in the mirror; big and white and it feels honest.

He pads back to bed, where Brad is curled in on himself, almost asleep already. Adam gently wipes at his ass and cock and belly and Brad hisses sharply, sensitive and a little sore, and Adam kisses his eyelids.

He throws the washcloth in the vicinity of the bathroom. They'll have to tidy the place tomorrow anyway.

Then he crawls back into bed, pulling the sheet over them.

Brad snuggles up closely, tucking his head under Adam’s chin, nuzzling his face into Adam’s neck, and Adam cups the back of his head protectively before slowly dragging his knuckles down the smooth length of Brad’s spine. He spreads his fingers wide, low on Brad’s back, marveling at how big his hand feels on Brad's slender waist.

Brad’s smooth legs are tangled up with Adam’s, and his hands are curled loosely together between them. Brad snuffles a little against his neck, and Adam holds him tighter, reaching over and cupping his hand around Brad’s shoulder.

The room is lighter already, stray beams of the morning sun hitting glitter smeared on the sheets, and Adam contemplates getting up to pull the shades down, but can’t be bothered.

The seagulls are starting to make noise outside, and Brad jerks in his sleep and rolls over on his back.

There’s make-up smudged on the pillow and Brad’s so carefully painted face is a mess. Foundation has been sweated off, his lipstick is smeared all around, his fake eyelashes are peeling off, eye-shadow smudged. A golden sunbeam hits him, and Adam doesn’t think he has ever seen anything more beautiful. He thinks maybe when they wake up, he’ll tell Brad how he feels, how he’s felt for a while. He thinks Brad might say it back.

“Hmmm,” Brad says and turns away from the sun. Adam feels his face soften, feels his mouth curve into a helpless smile, and he pulls Brad closer. He’s going to tell him. When they wake up, Brad’s going to bitch about being sore and how bad it is for his skin to sleep in all that make-up, and Adam’s going to tell him how much he loves him. He smiles and closes his eyes, caressing the soft skin on the side of Brad’s belly. He dozes off and they sleep curled around each other, painted golden and beautiful by the early morning sun.  
 

 


End file.
